


Four Firsts for Cas, and One for Dean

by anAwfulLotofRunning



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, One Shot, Silly, Valentine's Day, fallen!cas, human!Cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-05
Updated: 2013-03-05
Packaged: 2017-12-04 09:30:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/709220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anAwfulLotofRunning/pseuds/anAwfulLotofRunning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wherein Cas learns to be human, Sam is entertained, and Dean makes some discoveries of his own. AU, rated T. Light angst, mostly fluff and humor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Four Firsts for Cas, and One for Dean

Note~ _This is a Carnelian stone:_  
  
(Picture from wikipedia.com)  
  
~  
  
 **One: Courage**

The first thing Cas does as a human is get sick. Not just a runny nose or a harmless cough, but boils on his face, spewing fluids, honest-to-goodness-Biblical-level  _sick_.

Sam knows what to do. He finds clean motel washcloths (miraculously), soaks them in ice, and drags a moaning, semi-conscious Cas into bed so he can baby him with cool rags and semi-legal drugs.

Dean goes for a drink. 

It's a dick thing to do, and he hates himself for it.

The problem is, the more he cares about someone, the more of an ass he seems to become. If it were anyone else--even Sammy--Dean would have taken his best guess at how to care for a person with plague-like symptoms, and then done it.

But not Cas. He can’t stand to see Cas like this and he doesn't want to think about why.

So he walks to the bar, orders enough whiskey to drown a horse, and tries not to worry about his dying angel.

At 3 am, Dean opens the door to find a sleeping Sam and a wheezing Cas. Cas is fidgeting and moaning, and his shallow breath comes in sad little gurgles.

Dean doesn't know what to do--Sam is the one with the bedside manner, after all--but he is determined to try. He refills the ice bucket and wrings out the rag so that it it just cool enough. The he stands awkwardly above Cas, feeling like a creeper, and clumsily dabs at the angel’s sweaty face.

The  _human’s_  sweaty face, he reminds himself with a pang.

Cas seems to still under his touch, and Dean didn’t move his hand until the other man is breathing deeply--through his mouth, this time--and staying in place instead of moaning and shaking like he was in a bad dream.

Dean is tired, woozy. He surveys his sleeping options.

Sam, the bastard, is sprawled diagonally across his bed, boat-sized feet hanging off one corner. Though he would never admit it, Dean wouldn’t have minded sharing a bed with his brother again. It was how they lived as kids; even when their dad was gone and both beds were open, Sammy would crawl into bed with Dean at night. It grounded Sam, helped to keep his nightmares away, just to have someone on the other side of the bed. Dean hadn't minded either, but he would have died before admitting it. 

It was years ago, sure, and embarrassing as all hell to admit now, but he misses the time when Sam still needed him, and he actually had something to offer. A tangible way to help.

But his baby brother is now a snoring, unseemly giant, taking up the entire bed.

Dean looks around the room. There is no couch or pull out, an he sure as hell isn’t sleeping with Cas.

Chair it is then.

He sighs, and he certainly  _doesn’t_  sit right up against Cas’s bed, protectively close. He also  _doesn’t_  fill up a water glass and put Pedialyte and heavy-duty flu drugs on the bedside table in case the former angel needs anything during the night.

And if Dean stays awake, watchful, inspite of his sheer exhaustion, he  _definitely_  doesn’t still Cas’s thrashing with a gentle hand every time the former angel shakes from an all-too-frequent coughing fit.

Not that anyone else sees, anyway.

~

**Two: Grounding**  
  
The second thing Cas does is discover kale.  
  
“What the hell is this shit?” Dean yelps when he finds Cas frying kale on a portable burner in their motel. “Smells like ass.”  
  
“It’s good for you,” Cas says, as if that explains why he is frying an obscure leafy green in the midst of a pay-by-the-hour motel room. “Try it.” He holds a fork full up to Dean, expectantly.  
  
“Hell no,” Dean says.   
  
But Cas looks at him with sad, hurt eyes, and Dean gives in.   
  
To his credit, he chokes it down without comment. Then he notices other fruits and vegetables--things that actually grow and are green--covering the little table, and it’s too much.  
  
“You call this food?” he asks “Where’s the meat?”   
  
“I doubt it is sanitary to cook meat in an environment such as this, Dean,” Castiel explains calmly.   
  
“I doubt there is anything sanitary about this place,” Dean mutters under his breath, and resists the childish urge to add out loud, “Your face is unsanitary.”   
  
But Castiel is already off on a lecture about folic acid and daily fiber intake, and it sounds like a regurgitated high school health textbook.

Dean sighs.

“Are you going to judge me for loving bacon, now?” Dean asks warily.

Castiel cocks his head to the side, confused and earnest. “I never judge you Dean,” he says, sincerely. “But I wish to avoid another bout of human disease. So my diet will consist of fish, legumes, whole grains and fiber.”  
  
“Fine,” Dean huffs, and so what if he secretly relishes the small, triumphant smile from Cas? “Pass me the damn carrots.”   
  
~   
  
 **Three: Confidence**  
  
Castiel discovers Valentine’s Day in late July.  
  
Sam and Dean are limping up the stairs to their motel room after a run in with some female vamps. The door swings open before they reach it, revealing a beaming Cas.   
  
“Happy Valentine’s Day!” he shouts. He is holding a bright bouquet of helium balloons, and a large box of chocolates. Behind him, on the dusty dresser, sits a large vase full of flowers.  
  
Cas shoves the box of chocolates into Dean’s hands, almost knocking him over.   
  
Dean doesn’t have time register this before the chocolates are yanked away from him and given to Sam instead.  
  
“Sorry,” Castiel says brightly. “The chocolates are for Sam. I also purchased a ‘chick flick’ movie for him, because ‘it is the perfect prescription for a broken heart.’” He sounds like he’s quoting the last part from memory. Possibly from a daytime tv advice show.   
  
“Thanks Cas...” Sam begins slowly, brows furrowed at the chocolates in his hand. “But...I’m not heartbroken.”  
  
“Of course you are,” Cas says, sounding factual and impatient. “When was the last time a women slept with you and survived the experience?”  
  
Sam stares with his mouth open.   
  
Dean bursts out laughing, but it makes his entire body hurt. He collapses on to the nearest bed before saying, “Wait a minute. Why don’t I get any damn chocolate?”  
  
“Oh,” Cas looks confused, and momentarily distressed. “Do you not approve of the flower arrangement?”   
  
Dean realizes the flowers are for him, and almost laughs out loud. The white and purple tulips are are lovely, actually. They brighten up the dark and dusty motel room.   
  
“No, man, they’re great,” he assures his friend, and is glad to see Cas smile. “You’ll have to buy me dinner though before I’ll put out,” Dean jokes.   
  
“Put out?” Cas asks, confused.  
  
Sam coughs and jumps in, coming to rescue a flustered Dean. “Why do some of the balloons say ‘It’s a boy?’”  
  
“Because it is July,” Cas explains, patiently, as if the answer should be obvious to Sam. “The cranky woman at the florist told me that heart shaped balloons are sold only in February.”  
  
“Ah,” says Sam. He looks over to see Dean smelling the flowers, and then pulling away to scratch his nose.  
  
Cas shuffles over to Dean. “I have another offering for you." He places a small brown parcel on the dresser and steps back, face tentative.

Dean raises an eyebrow, but picks up the package. He opens it and something light and cool falls into his palm.   
  
It is a bronze chain holding a single burnt red stone. Dean runs his fingers over it, studies the lines that zig zag through the red. Then he smiles up at Cas.  
  
“A necklace?” he asks. "You're buying me jewelry now?"   
  
“It is a Carnelian stone,” Cas says proudly. “It is a symbol of courage and confidence, and according to ancient lore it bestows peace and protection to the wearer. And possibly something about increased sex drive...” He mumbles the last bit to himself, scratching his head as if trying to remember.   
  
Sam coughs, loudly, and Cas comes back to earth.   
  
“The stone is like you Dean,” he explains, looking a little awkward. “You already have courage and confidence, but you need something to help give you protection and peace. And joy. It’s also for joy, because you need that too.”  
  
Dean’s jaw drops open, but he takes the stone and loops it around his neck. It hangs easily next to the amulet from Sam that he never takes off. 

“Thanks,” he says, and means it.   
  
Even though his body still aches and he has no idea why Cas just gave him flowers and jewelry for Not-Actually-Valentine’s-Day, Dean feels surprisingly peaceful and relaxed as he leans back in bed. He is ready for a nap.   
  
As if he drifts off to sleep, he hears his brother ask: “Where did you even learn about Valentine’s Day, Cas?”   
  
“Ehow.com.” Cas answers proudly. “I have learned to navigate the internet.”  
  
~  
  
 **Four: Sex**  
  
The following week, Cas discovers Dean’s browsing history.   
  
He is sitting at Bobby’s kitchen table, staring at the screen with furrowed brows.  
  
Dean walks in, beer in hand, and Cas asks, conversationally, “Why do Asian women have such large breasts?”   
  
Dean spits out a mouthful of beer, turns bright red, and proceeds to stammer, “Um, Cas, no, that’s not..I... _shit_. How did you find that?”   
  
“Don’t corrupt the fallen angel!” Sam yells from the other room.  
  
“It’s alright, Dean,” Cas answers, matter-of-fact. “I consider myself fairly incorruptible.”   
  
“Incorrigible, maybe,” Dean mutters.  
  
“Where the hell did you pick up a word like that?” Sam appears in the doorway and sits down next to Cas. He leans back in his chair, long legs reaching lazily to the floor. “What are we doing, anyway?”  
  
“Observing the behavior of scantily clad women,” Cas answers evenly.  
  
Sam groans and glares at his brother. “Dean!”   
  
“I also received a sexual proposition from a well proportioned man named Ricardo,” Cas continues, ignoring the brothers. “But I suspect he required payment, so I declined.”  
  
“Ricardo, eh?” Dean laughs. “Where did you run into that manly prize?”   
  
“HotSingleKansasMen.com,” Cas replies with a shrug.   
  
Dean feels his jaw drop. “Men, Cas? Really? Over my busty asian beauties?”  
  
Cas just shrugs again, as if to say, " _Obviously, Dean. Where have you been?"_  
  
“Shit, Cas,” Dean says, feeling slightly panicked and not knowing why. “You’re telling me you want an internet boyfriend? You’re telling me you’re looking to play the field?”   
  
Cas catches his gaze, holds it. He enunciates clearly and carefully when he says, “Unless you have a better idea, Dean.”  
  
Dean backpedals, wildly, holding up his hands in protest. “No, dude, I just meant...”  
  
But Sam is laughing, and Cas is too.   
  
“It’s okay,” Cas assures him, patting his knee. “I have no intention of ‘buying you dinner’ as you put it last week.”

Later that night, Dean paces his bedroom, pissed off and punching things, and he doesn’t know why.   
  
All he knows is that his blood didn’t boil when Cas almost-but-not-quite-hit-on-him, but it sure as hell did when he heard that Cas was might look for someone else.

He is almost-but-not-quite ready to think about why.

~  
  
 **And a fifth for Dean**

The thud of a body hitting the ground is nothing new. Dean hears it every day, always knows that the body could belong to someone he loves. Someone who may not still be breathing.

Even still, when Dean breaks free of the vampire’s hold and whips around to check, he is not prepared for it to be Cas. Cas laying still, torso bent at a weird angle like he just landed awkwardly from a hard throw.   
  
There are three vampires left, and Dean takes them out easily. Later, he won’t remember slicing off their heads with unprecedented force, fueled by a growing panic and rage. He won’t remember calling for Sam, desperate for backup. He will only remember the sight of Cas’s body--his human, mortal body--laying limp on the concrete floor.   
  
Sam shows up out of nowhere. He gives a curt nod to say, “we’re clear,” before he notices Cas and his eyes go wide.  
  
“Shit.”   
  
But Dean is already beside Cas, holding his coat tight on the oozing wounds, squeezing Cas's wrist for a pulse. He feels a heartbeat, and he is relieved enough to curse and pray and pass out all at once.  
  
“Is he?” Sam asks, standing back.  
  
“He’s okay,” Dean says gruffly. “Come on, let’s get him to a hospital.”   
  
Sam carries Cas out easily, and Dean is grateful that he has a sasquatch for a brother.   
  
~  
  
“Owwwwwwww,” Cas says when he wakes up. “Owwwwwww.”  
  
“Pansy,” Dean says. He is awake, chair close to Cas’s bed just like before.   
  
Sam is snoring on a cot in the corner of the room, limbs sprawled every which way, so Dean and Cas are mostly alone.  
  
Dean knows that he should call a nurse, now that Castiel is awake, but he needs a moment to yell at his friend. “You are an idiot, Castiel. A fucking idiot. You come back here, all de-angled, and you can’t even tie your shoes without help, and you take on a fucking alpha vampire without backup? What the hell is wrong with you?”   
  
“At the moment, it feels like about five broken ribs and maybe a concussion.” Cas deadpans. His voice holds a forced sense of calm, but his face clearly reads: I am too tired and drugged for this bullshit, Dean Winchester. Get me a fucking nurse.  
  
Dean sighs, and complies, wondering how he just lost an argument to a single facial expression.   
  
The nurse comes in quickly, fusses over Castiel, and offers him jello as a snack.  
  
“Does it contain artificial sweeteners?” Cas asks politely, and it pisses Dean off that Cas almost died on him, and then comes back like nothing is wrong. And somehow still has the presence of mind to ask about chemical additives in spite of having a concussion.   
  
The nurse says that yes, it probably does, because the hospital is underfunded and can't afford real food. She leaves the room.

Dean feels like an asshole, yet again, for yelling at Cas. But apologies are something he just doesn't do.

He opens his mouth, debating the words, and closes it again. “Let me find you some vegetables or something,” he says instead. “Or trail mix?” Cas nods, looking unperturbed.   
  
“Do you uh, need anything else? I could find you a hot nurse or something.”   
  
Castiel looks bemused. “I do not see how that would improve my situation.”   
  
“Bastard,” Dean chuckles under his breath as he walks out of the room, on a mission to find Cas some acceptable food.   
  
~  
  
Cas makes a face when he gets into bed back at the motel. “Not comfortable,” he says, lips turned down.   
  
“What are you, five?” Dean asks. But he hands over another pillow.

“The tilt of the hospital bed was better suited for broken ribs.” 

Cas looks up at Dean, expectantly, like a kid asking to be tucked in. 

“Fine, fine,” Dean laughs, and helps Cas adjust the pillows so that he is partially propped up against the wall. “Would you like me to read you a story, too?” 

Cas glares, and says primly. “That won't be necessary.”   
  
He looks a little put out when Dean laughs.   
  
“Seriously though, dude,” Dean says. “Can I get you anything? The doc said you need a good night sleep. And protein, so you’re eating a hamburger tomorrow. No arguments.”  
  
“Tree nuts and legumes also contain protein,” Cas observes mildly, but he doesn’t argue. “In answer to your question, I would be grateful for more back support. Another pillow, perhaps?” 

Dean looks around the room. Cas already has all the pillows in sight--except for the one Sam’s face is buried into--and the front desk is closed for the night.  
  
And Cas is sliding down the bed, unable to stay comfortable because of the crap pillows. Dean kicks himself for not planning for this, for not thinking ahead to take better care of Cas. He still isn’t used to a Cas who doesn't instantly heal. A Cas who eats and drinks and sleeps and bleeds.   
  
“Move forward,” he says, gruffly. “I’ll be the damn pillow.”  
  
Cas’s eyes go comically wide when Dean joins him on the bed, but he nods, and moves away from the wall. Dean maneuvers behind him, leaning back on the spackled wall for support. He extends his legs carefully, one to each side of Cas, trying not to jostle Cas’s bruised body.   
  
Then he motions to Cas, who is watching him, curious.   
  
“Well, are you coming?” Dean asks.   
  
Cas scoots toward him, and turns around to lean back, but Dean stops him suddenly, following an impulse that is long overdue.   
  
“Wait,” he says, and catches Cas gently by the hand. “I...I need to say something first, and just hear me out because I probably won’t get it right.” He takes a breath, trying to remember that he is wearing a stone of courage and confidence around his neck. “Cas, I’m an asshole, and I know it, and I’ll never be able to apologize worth a damn, but I wanted you to know that I booked us a nicer hotel for the next few days, and you’re gonna have have someplace decent to recover. I mean, you’re still an idiot for that suicide run, and I’ll kill you if you do it again, but I know I’m an ass, and I want to make it up to you.  
  
“And also,” he says, drawing in a breath for courage, “this.” He kisses Cas gently, afraid to break him, to hurt his bruised friend.   
  
Cas kisses back, and it is short and sweet, chaste and light. A simple “yes” to Dean’s unasked question.

Then it deepens, and there are tongues exploring mouths and hands through hair, and they are falling together in to something new and terrifying and good and  _right_. 

Cas pulls back and asks, tentatively, “Should I erase my account at HotSingleKansasMen.com?” He keeps his tone light to conceal the fact that he is holding his breath, hoping that Dean wants to keep him for good. 

Dean's reply is swift and sure. "Definitely. I want you all to myself." 

He gives Cas a mile-wide grin before leaning in for another kiss. 

Everything about it is perfect, and Cas loves it, but his body is twisted awkwardly and his ribs are aching and his eyes will fall out of his head soon if he doesn’t get some sleep.   
  
Dean notices his pained gasp, and immediately pulls away, opening his arms so that Cas to lean back.   
  
“Come here, baby,” he says, and he almost trips over the last word, because it is so new and wonderful and  _his_. Just like Cas is now.   
  
“I am not a small child,” Cas protests, his voice going lazy, but Dean can hear the grin in his tone.   
  
“Course not,” Dean replies, seriously. “Now get some rest, dear.”  
  
Dean enjoys the easy, joking energy between them. All of the familiarity and comfort of friendship is still there, and always will be.   
  
But there will be a million new things between them too. Things that are special and sacred and terrifying and  _right_.   
  
Dean forgets to breathe when Cas leans back, burrowing his head into the crook of Dean’s shoulder for the very first time and falling into a pattern of deep, steady breath.   
  
“You okay buddy?” Dean asks quietly. “Comfortable enough to get some rest?”  
  
“Mmm,” Cas says, and it is the sound of contentment. Satisfaction. Dean realizes that he has never heard the sound from Castiel before. And that he would like to hear it far more often.

“Thank you Dean,” Cas mumbles, and then he is breathing deeply, snoring a little.   
  
Dean looks down, unable to see much of Cas through his mess of black hair. He adjusts his position, careful not to jostle Cas and reinjure his broken ribs.   
  
Then he realizes he has nothing to do with his hands. They are hanging at his sides, but that just feels weird, and what if Cas slips off or something, and falls to the side and bruises himself on the hard mattress? Or what if Cas gets cold in the night? The stupid man refused to use the hotel blankets--which were real wool--complaining that they were too scratchy.  
  
Dean is tentative, careful as he wraps his arms around his boyfriend (his  _boyfriend_!) for the first time. He runs his hands gently up and down Cas’s arms, relishing the brand new touch. Then he rests his arms along side Cas’s, circling protectively around the man’s waist.   
  
 _Maybe this amulet worked after all,_  he thinks.  _What was that Cas said again? Courage, centering, confidence, peace, protection, and joy. And possibly something about sex..._  
  
He smiles when Cas burrows further back into his chest and wraps his bandaged hands around Dean’s arms.   
  
Dean drifts off to the sound of one last, inarticulate, contented noise from Cas.

_(fin)_

 


End file.
